“That’s the plan.”
Giselle set the water containers down. “I’ve been here for weeks. Running perimeter security, treating Lucian’s wound, maintaining operational discipline while the three of them tracked your movements from outside those walls. Do you know how many hours Solomon has spent watching that compound?”
“Giselle.” My voice carried the warning clearly.
She didn’t look at me. Her eyes stayed on Mira. “Every patrol gap, every guard rotation, every camera angle. He mapped that facility from memory so thoroughly that when he finally went in, he navigated it in the dark.”
Mira’s expression didn’t waver.
“Is there a point you’re getting to?” Mira asked. “Or are you just listing things I already know?”
“The point is that they’ve given everything to be here. Lucian abandoned his throne. Solomon compromised his operational standards. Percival went rogue.” Giselle’s voice didn’t rise but the weight behind it increased. “And you’re walking back into acompound run by your father, playing both sides, while they sit in a forest and wait.”
“I’m not playing both sides.”
“You’re sleeping in his compound and in their camp. From where I’m standing, that’s both sides.”
The clearing went quiet. Lucian had gone still against his tree. Percival’s head turned toward the confrontation but he didn’t move.
Mira stepped closer to Giselle. Not aggressive but not retreating. The two of them were close in height, and at this distance the contrast was stark: Giselle’s military discipline against Mira’s scraped-together resilience.
“You don’t know me,” Mira said. “You don’t know what I’m doing in that compound or what it costs me every time I call that man Dad and smile through his lies. You don’t know what it’s doing to me to leave my mates every two days while I’m carrying their children.”
Her voice dropped. “And you don’t get to stand between me and that tree line and tell me I’m not sacrificing enough. Not when I’m the one walking back in there alone.”
Giselle held her ground. “I’m not questioning your courage. I’m questioning whether you intend to honor what they’re sacrificing for you. Because right now, you haven’t forgiven them, you haven’t committed to them, and they’re still rearranging their entire world around you.”
The words landed. I watched them land on Mira’s face, watched the flinch she almost hid.
“Giselle. Enough.” My voice left no room for interpretation.
This time she looked at me. The amber eyes held a challenge, a plea, and a wound underneath both that she’d carried for decades without naming. Then she stepped aside.
Mira turned toward the tree line.
“Mira.” Lucian’s voice carried from his tree. Strained from the effort of raising it. “Wait.”
She didn’t stop.
Percival was on his feet. The first time he’d moved with urgency lately, crossing the clearing in three strides. “Mira, don’t leave it at that. She doesn’t speak for us.”
“I have to go.” Flat. Controlled. The mask back in place. “Morning patrols start in forty minutes and if I’m not in my room when Elaine does her rounds, this entire rotation falls apart.”
“Mira.” I reached for her arm. She stepped out of range without looking at me.
“Forty minutes, Solomon.” Her voice didn’t crack but the cost of holding it steady was visible in the set of her jaw. “We can talk about it in two days. Just let me go.”
She adjusted the jacket, confirmed the items in her pockets, and walked into the tree line without another word.
I tracked her scent until it merged with the forest’s baseline. Then I turned to Giselle.
“That was not your place.”
“Someone needed to say it.”
“No. Someone didn’t.” I held her gaze. “Mira is my mate. She carries our children. And her relationship with me is not a variable you get to assess.”
“I’m not assessing your relationship. I’m protecting you.” The frustration broke through her composure for the first time. “That’s what I’ve done for years, Solomon. I’ve watched your back, covered your blind spots. And now your blind spot is her and you won’t let anyone point it out.”
